“Was that as good for you as it was for me?” he asked.

Her gaze fell to the forgotten truffle he still held between his fingers and her eyes widened. “But you haven’t even tasted it yet.”

“I was too busy watching you.” Setting his truffle back in the box, he rounded the snack bar, stopping in front of her. He felt as if steam pumped from his pores. “I’d rather taste yours.”

She blinked, then held up the remaining piece of her truffle. “Oh. Sure. I’m happy to-”

He cut off her words by covering her mouth with his.

The instant his lips touched hers, every thought drained from his head. He drew her off the stool, then into his arms, and she went willingly, twining her arms around his neck. She made that incredible moaning sound and parted her lips, inviting him to delve deeper, an offer he immediately accepted, his tongue exploring the delectable heat of her mouth while his hands roamed slowly down the curve of her back.

So good…God, she tasted so good. Sweet, warm and delicious. The erotic friction of her tongue tangling with his arrowed needles of fire through him. He shifted, leaning against the snack bar, then spread his legs and drew her into the V of his thighs. She pressed herself against him, incinerating him where he stood.

More…more…more. The word pounded through him, demanding, stripping another layer off his control, a situation that wasn’t helped at all by Carlie’s ardent response. He’d meant to kiss her slowly, lightly, but nothing about this kiss was slow or light. Instead it was a deep, intimate flash fire of heat and hunger and want. His hands tunneled through her silky hair, holding her head immobile while his mouth devoured hers.

He lost all sense of time, and when he finally raised his head, had no idea how long he’d kissed her, other than to know that it wasn’t long enough. He looked down at her and saw…

Fog.

Talk about having your eyes glaze over.

He blinked and realized his glasses had steamed over. Yeah, just like the rest of him. Before he could reach for the glasses, he felt her removing them. As she lifted them from his face, she came into view. With her eyes half closed, her cheeks flushed red, and her full lips moist and parted, she looked utterly gorgeous and completely aroused. After she set his glasses on the snack bar, she leaned back in the circle of his arms and whispered, “Wow.”

He was impressed she managed to utter a word. He sure as hell wasn’t able to. How was it that what was supposed to have been nothing more than a simple kiss felt so damn…complicated? He had to swallow twice and clear his throat just to locate his voice. “Yeah. Wow.” He still sounded as if he’d scraped his vocal chords with sandpaper.

“I fogged up your glasses.”

“I forgive you.”

She studied him for several seconds. “You look different without them.”

“So do you. You’re sort of…blurry.”

She leaned closer, until they were nearly nose to nose. “How’s that?”

“Oh, it’s you,” he teased. He bent his head and touched his lips to the side of her neck. “You taste delicious.”

“That was the chocolate.”

He lifted his head and looked into her eyes, and experienced that same rush of sensation he felt when he jumped off the high diving board. “No. It was you.”

“I’ve gotta tell you, that kiss made me forget all about my truffle, and that’s a sentence that has never before passed my lips.” Again she studied him for several seconds. “Probably I shouldn’t admit this, but I’ve wanted to do that for a while.”

“Relieve me of my truffles?”

She smiled. “Well, that, too. But I meant fog up your glasses.”

“Why shouldn’t you admit that?”

“According to all those rule books, I should act coy and mysterious. Unfortunately, that’s just not my style.”

“Doesn’t sound unfortunate to me. I prefer the brutal truth.” He tucked a stray cinnamon curl behind her ear. “And the brutal truth is I’d like to continue our conversation-”

“Conversation?” Mischief glimmered in her eyes and she nudged her pelvis against the hard ridge of his erection.

“Our evening together,” he corrected with a smile, “when you have more time. Are you free tomorrow night?”

“That depends. Are you offering more truffles?”

“That depends. Will you give me that massage?”

“I will if you will.”

“Seven o’clock?”

“Better make it eight. I have a load of studying to do.”

“Great. Looking forward to it.”

And that, he decided, was a sentence that belonged in the Guinness Book of World Records under the heading of “Hugest Understatement Ever Spoken.”

5

DANIEL THOUGHT ABOUT her the whole damn day.

He hadn’t felt this kind of anticipation about seeing a woman in a very long time. And never to this degree. The taste of her kiss, the feel of her pressed up against him…wanting to experience those sensations again made the day drag along at a snail’s pace. He found himself looking out his office window every few minutes hoping to catch a glimpse of her, a fact that annoyed him and made concentrating on his work nearly impossible.

But the day finally passed and she was due to arrive in forty-five minutes.

Thank God.

Stepping from the shower, he wrapped a towel around his hips then snagged another to towel-dry his hair. After shaving, he dressed in a blue polo shirt and his most comfortable jeans, then glanced around his bedroom. Bed neatly made, condoms stashed in the nightstand drawer. Perfect. Satisfied, he made his way to the den.

His box of truffles, or as he’d renamed them, “The Best Fifty Bucks He’d Ever Spent,” rested on the coffee table. He slipped a blues CD into the stereo, lowered the lights and found a pair of candles, which he set on the coffee table. The only thing missing was Carlie.

His gaze once again strayed to the clock. She was due in seven minutes.

He hoped like hell she wouldn’t be late.

Sure, the promise of a massage, and what would hopefully follow, was enough to fill any guy with anticipation, but somehow this felt like…more. Which was crazy since they barely knew each other. And especially since he’d be gone in two weeks. Clearly he was imagining things. No doubt because he hadn’t been with anyone since Nina had left. Yeah, that’s all this was: a case of extreme horniness. A bout-or two, or maybe three or four-of hot, sweaty sex with his hot, sexy neighbor would set his head back on straight.

The thought of hot, sweaty sex made him feel decidedly warm, so he headed to the fridge for a bottle of water. When he opened the door, his gaze fell on the blue foil-wrapped half of a chocolate heart he’d received with his purchase from Sinfully Sweet. He’d put it the refrigerator because every once in a while he enjoyed a eating piece of chilled chocolate while drinking a cup of hot coffee. Instead of grabbing a water, he slid out the heart half, suddenly curious to know what message was hidden beneath the foil. He undid the shiny blue wrapping and pulled out a slender strip of paper.

Pushing his glasses up his nose, he read, “Passion is best described as unpredictable because it’s often found in surprising places. With unexpected people. Leading to unanticipated encounters. All of which can result in unforeseen outcomes.”

His brows shot upward. Talk about apt. Well, everything except the last part. There was nothing unforeseen about the outcome of any passion he and Carlie might share. It had a two-week expiration date stamped right on it. And they both knew that going in.

He hadn’t wanted to accept the half a heart, telling Ellie there was no point in him doing so because with him moving, he had neither the time nor the inclination to try to discover which single woman might have the matching pink half. But Ellie had insisted, saying that if nothing else, he’d enjoy the delicious chocolate. He’d tried one more time, saying that he felt bad knowing some woman might get his matching half and be a definite loser in the contest because of it, but still she’d insisted. So he’d taken it and offered up a silent apology to whoever might receive the matching half.

Before loosely rewrapping the chocolate, he broke off a small piece and popped it in his mouth. Oh, yeah. That was some damn good chocolate. He grabbed a bottle of water, then leaned his hips against the counter. Another quick look at the clock told him Carlie was due right about now.

Which was perfect because he couldn’t wait to feel her hands on him. The mere thought shot a bolt of heat through his body.

He really hoped she wouldn’t be late.


DAMN IT, she was running late.

Carlie jumped from the shower and hastily wrapped a towel around her, sarong style. Why was it that whenever she was in a rush everything went wrong? Her favorite shirt, the one that made her look like she had more cleavage than she actually did, was in the dirty laundry, and while she’d been busy studying, the puppies had gotten into the bathroom and littered three rooms with toilet paper streamers.

In the middle of gathering up the mess-a process hindered by an enthusiastic P.B. and J. who thought “clean-up” was secret puppy talk for “play-time”-her mother had called twice. The first time just to chat, and the second time to bombard her with questions after she’d deduced-in that unerringly accurate way moms had-that “Can’t talk now, Mom, I’m busy” was secret daughter talk for “Gotta go, have a hot date with a hot man.” Then she couldn’t find her razor and no way was she going to Daniel’s house without freshly shaved legs.

So now, here she was, soaking wet, with about six minutes to make herself spectacular. She toweled a spot off the fogged-up bathroom mirror and grimaced at what she saw. No way her mirror would declare her Fairest of Them All. Six minutes? Good grief, she needed more like six hours. She looked like something the puppies dragged in from the backyard.